


For The Greater Good

by MasterSpy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-08
Updated: 2013-02-09
Packaged: 2017-11-24 04:26:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/630393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MasterSpy/pseuds/MasterSpy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I can get you Harry Potter," she whispered. "And the traitor Snape. In fact, I promise to hand them to you on a silver platter." </p>
<p>She watched his ashen, pale face twist into a cruel, serpentine smile. With a flick of the Dark Lord's wand, she felt her entire body rupture with the agony of a thousand knives. The feared mark of evil glowed the deep scarlet of her blood, confirming her true allegiance. On her left forearm, now lay the infamous Dark Mark.</p>
<p>And that is how, on the 19th of September, 1997, Hermione Granger celebrated her 18th Birthday.</p>
<p>AU post OotP. Ratings for later chapters. Spy!Hermione (not evil)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

 

**Prologue:**

Rain crashed down in front of her.

It only seemed fitting that the clouds wept with her today, for they celebrated the ultimate loss of her innocence. No longer a child shielded from the pain of the world, today marked her transition from a child to an adult.

If only it were under better circumstances.

The accelerating droplets smashed onto the ground—a scattered ruin of a degraded path—and muddied the soil slushing around her knees. Her eyes, previously fixated at the cracked grey floor before her, lifted to meet the merciless rubies of her master.

"Today, my Lord," she whispered, "if you would allow me the honour of accepting my servitude, I wish to pledge my complete allegiance to you."

Brown eyes glistening with anticipation of what was to come, she met his gaze as he looked at her submissive, kneeling form before him.

"And, why, my dear Mudblood," he hissed, enjoying the sight before him, "should I welcome your unworthy blood into my circle of followers?"

She hesitated before answering, choosing her words with careful precision. "I believe I have proven my loyalty to your cause in the past few months, my Lord. I would like to serve you further. I wish to provide all my abilities for your disposal. I wish to help you in your battle."

There was no time for hesitation, for doubt or uncertainty. Emotions held no meaning to her as she awaited his response, knowing that any sign of humanity or trepidation would only anger her master. Anxiously, she waited for either her death or his reply. Fortunately, she was graced with the latter.

"Why has my little Mudblood overstepped her bounds tonight to make such a bold request?" he asked, his high-pitched voice cold.

It was a good question. One many would ask. Fortunately, she had the perfect answer.

"Because, my Lord, I can do what all have failed to achieve," she declared, whilst keeping her voice soft and subdued. "I can get you Harry Potter," she whispered. "And the traitor Snape. In fact, I promise to hand them to you on a silver platter."

She watched his ashen, pale face twist into a cruel, serpentine smile. With a flick of his wand, she felt her entire body rupture with the agony of a thousand knives. Refusing to scream, her teeth drew blood from her lips as her nails carved red trails into her clenched fists. She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping to shield away from the angry red haze of the curse. Slowly, as if taunting her, the pain retreated, the fires receding to the inside of her left wrist.

On her previously unmarked skin, lay a living snake, black as night, coiled around her entire left forearm with a skull for its tail. Leaving a trail of her blood in its wake, it slithered down her arm to the inside of her wrist, claiming its territory. With a final hiss, it plunged its fangs into her, tearing her skin like ribbons, and replacing it with its venom.

Within moments, the reptile had vanished, as if becoming one with her skin. In its place, the feared mark of evil glowed the deep scarlet of her blood, confirming her true allegiance. On her left forearm, now lay the infamous Dark Mark.

"Do not make me regret my generosity, Mudblood," her master ordered. "Or I will make sure you beg for an end to your miserable existence."

Lifting one knee off the soaked ground, she bent her head forward in respect. Her brown hair, drenched by the downpour, fell forward limply, sticking to her neck and face in waves.

"Thank you, my Lord, for this great honour. I shall make you proud."

With a nod, the Dark Lord Apparated away from the frozen cemetery, leaving his newest Death Eater alone in the cold mist. He disappeared with a crack, lost in the lines of water that obscured his follower's vision. The uneven ground before her filled with puddles, the water stained red with her blood.

And that is how, on the 19th of September, 1997, Hermione Granger celebrated her official 18th Birthday.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it :) Please let me know what you thought by leaving a comment. ~Kay


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having returned from her recent induction, Hermione tries desperately to heal herself. Bravely, she makes her way back to the castle to complete one immediate task: talking to Professor Dumbledore.

**Chapter 1:**

The deed was done. She had succeeded. No longer just a Potions Mistress and researcher that they used as a replacement for a traitor, she had finally been accepted as one of the Dark Lord's Death Eaters.

She had succeeded: that was why she was lying on the floor bleeding.

Dark Magic was notoriously hard to heal – she had learnt that from her fall in the Department of Mysteries. She had also been reminded of that several times in the past three months.

It turns out the rumours were true: taking the Dark Mark was an incredibly painful process.

After the Dark Lord had left her in the cemetery, she had Apparated back to the middle of the Forbidden Forest. Although the forest had a reputation for being infamously dangerous, she found that it had become much like a second home to her. Sometimes, she felt safer in her clearing than in the confines of her room at Hogwarts.

You see, once you strike a deal with the unicorns and centaurs, there is not much that can injure you in the forest. Being two of the most intelligent and fierce mythical beings, their protection pretty much granted you a free pass in the forest.

Her experiences had helped immensely when forming a relationship with the creatures, allowing her to display some form of empathy with them. The fact that she was aspiring to help bring down the Dark Lord that both kinds hated also worked out in her favour. The centaurs had been harder to convince (they didn't really like her after the Umbridge incident), but they respected fierce warriors. Besides, they had sensed her animalistic nature. Now that she was allowed on their territory, she had nothing to fear whilst she recovered from her injuries.

And so the process started again.

Walk to your torture. Be tortured. Heal from said torture in the forest. Make the torturous walk from the forest to the castle. Pretend everything is fine and previous torture never occurred.

Only today it had been so much worse.

She was becoming a cynic.

With all the energy she possessed, she heaved herself off the floor into a sitting position. She knew the scent of her blood would have informed her allies that she was back. Looking at her forearm, she assessed the damage that had been dealt.

Her left arm was a mangled mess of blood and flesh, the only distinct feature being the infamous Dark Mark. After casting a wandless  _Accio_ , her wand travelled from its hiding place in a hollow tree with only a moment's delay. It was not like the Dark Lord would have trusted her with a wand around him. No, every time she was summoned, she went wandless. It was the only way to prove her loyalty.

She had never been more grateful that her grasp of wandless magic was extraordinary.

There were not many tissue healing spells she could use – the Dark magic inside the wound ensured that. With practised perfection, she magically bandaged her arms, hoping to reduce the bleeding. Another  _Accio_ brought her the necessary potions required. She drank the Sealing and Blood Replenishing Potions without even a mental complaint of their vile taste. Her very own creation, a Stimulating Potion, provided her with a well-needed bout of artificial energy. She would have to wait till she returned to her chambers to apply the salve that would help expedite the natural process of healing.

She waved her wand again, mending the bone the snake had broken. Casting an effective glamour, her arm now looked perfectly healthy to everyone else. Next, she disillusioned herself perfectly, becoming entirely invisible. Satisfied that it would be enough to make the journey back, she stood hesitantly, testing her aching muscles, ignoring the agonising pain that still burned through her body.

Slowly, she made her trek back to the castle.

To circumvent the areas where her schoolmates tended to congregate when breaking curfew, she circled around the Quidditch pitch. She used the secret passage by the dungeons to gain entry to the castle (she had a sneaking suspicion it had been created to help the Potions Master with his nightly duties).

It was a good thing that she was smart: sneaking around would have been impossible otherwise.

First, she cast a non-verbal, improved  _Silencio_ (that worked on objects as well) on her shoes.

Second, she aimed the same  _Silencio_ on herself, so that her breathing and rustling would not attract any unwanted attention. She was naturally stealthy: when she moved, she did so silently. However, the pain she was experiencing had made her motions louder than normal. The silence of the corridors only amplified any noises. She would not take a risk.

Last, she cast her creation,  _Animadverto Non_ , on herself, preventing any spying devices from noticing her. She did not want to answer to Harry when he saw her crawling around the castle after curfew on the Marauder's map. Helpfully, it also allowed her to walk through the several wards in Hogwarts completely undetected.

Confident that no one could find her, she continued to find her way through the castle.

She walked past the staircase that led to her and Draco's chambers. She could not return to her bed quite yet. Draco would have to be the sole Head student for a little longer.

There was something of severe importance to be done first.

* * *

Headmaster Dumbledore was a compassionate, patient man. Whilst he wasn't usually disturbed at night, he was only more than happy to help when a student approached him after hours.

Albus Dumbledore was also an unbelievably powerful wizard – some argued the most powerful since Merlin. He had been through two wars and was preparing for the third. Some would say he had seen it all.

However, nothing could have prepared him for what happened that night.

He had been in his chambers sleeping when his wards had erupted, all alarms blaring. Someone had broken into his office. Instantly awake, he had automatically Apparated directly into his office, his wand magically appearing in his hand.

He didn't know what he expected entirely – it was a very unusual occurrence. Maybe he had been hoping it was merely a Death Eater searching through his drawers; maybe he feared it was Voldemort himself, ready for a final duel.

He definitely hadn't expected to find Hermione Granger calmly sitting in an armchair facing his desk, turned slightly towards the warmth of a roaring fire he had not lit.

Shocked would be an understatement.

"Good evening, Professor," Miss Granger greeted calmly, as if the circumstances were no different than a common Head Girl meeting. "I apologise for waking you up so rudely. However, I needed to discuss something of the utmost importance."

Gesturing to his own chair behind his desk, she asked cordially, "Would you care to take a seat?"

The irony of a student inviting him to his own seat in his own office would not have been lost to him if the situation hadn't been so surreal. Here he was, in his night robes, being ordered by his student, who was draped in tousled black robes that seemed to have a bit of grass and dirt sticking to them.

Silently, he took his chair, resting his elbows on his desk as he leaned forward towards his star student. Staring at her intensely with bright blue eyes, he tried to gain a greater understanding from her of what was happening.

He was refused entry.

She had blocked his Legilimency.

Her mind had been masterfully guarded, in only a way an experienced Occlumens could accomplish. He couldn't have been more confused. Even if she hadn't smiled knowingly, acknowledging that she had felt him pry.

For the first time in a very long time, Albus Dumbledore was completely clueless.

"Miss Granger," he started, finding it hard to find the right words, "might I ask what has brought you here tonight in such a dramatic manner?"

"I'm sorry for the inconvenience, Professor," she continued in the same calm tone she had used before. "But I had to take the necessary precautions to make sure I wasn't noticed or my appearance documented. For that, I had to slip past your wards. I'm sorry for the abrupt alarms I must've caused once I let down my spells."

He didn't know which part of that sentence he wanted to question the most. Instead, he chose to simply file it away for later, dealing with the more important matters first.

"What was it that you wanted to discuss, Miss Granger?" he asked kindly, with no anger in his voice She was glad that he didn't seem too annoyed at her boldness.

"Before I can tell you anything, Headmaster, I must insist that this conversation be kept strictly between the two of us," she stated, her eyes almost challenging him to say otherwise.

"I can assure you, my dear, that I will keep your confidence if you so ask."

She looked at the sleeping portraits pointedly, revealing the true meaning of her request.

Nodding at her, he cast a  _Muffliato_ to prevent their conversation from being heard.

After expressing her gratitude, she stood from her chair, walking to the front of his desk.

"If you wouldn't mind, Headmaster, it would be much easier to show you what I wished to discuss."

"Miss Granger, right now, anything that might ease my confusion would be appreciated," he replied, his curiosity and concern increasing with every passing second.

Without a word, Hermione rolled up the sleeves of her left arm, revealing her pale skin. With a wave of her hand, she dropped the glamour, instantaneously revealing the blood-soaked bandages. A second later, they too disappeared, bearing the Dark Mark in all its morbid glory.

The previously warm atmosphere turned cold. The Headmaster's sharp inhalation was the only sound that passed for a few moments.

Deliberately, he stood from his chair, walking around the desk to come to a stand in front of her. Gently, he cradled her scarlet arm, staring at the black that claimed it.

"My child, what have you done?" he asked in a haunted whisper.

"I did what had to be done, Headmaster. For the greater good," she replied confidently, seemingly unfazed by his clear anguish.

He dropped her hand carefully, re-bandaging it with a wave of his wand.

"Hermione," he said after she had returned her arm to her side, "it seems you have a lot to tell me."

"That I do, Professor, that I do," she sighed, sitting back down in her seat casually.

"By the fact that you have yet to raise a wand towards me, am I right to assume that you are still on the side of the Light?" he asked, uncertain what he would do if he was wrong.

"Of course, Headmaster! I'd never betray Harry!" she replied passionately, something finally breaking through her smooth mask.

"Then why have you taken the Dark Mark?"

"I thought it'd be obvious, Headmaster. I wish to replace Professor Snape as a spy."

Stunned, he rested his body against his desk, leaning against it for support.

"Why?"

"Ever since the end of last year, when Professor Snape's true allegiance was revealed, we've had a gaping hole in our war effort. I know you've been aware of it, Headmaster," she answered, her voice no longer that of an innocent student. He noticed her deeper timbre, an authority and confidence shining through her mere presence.

Once again, he was baffled by the enigma in front of him.

"Since the night on the Astronomy tower, when Professor Snape refused to kill you or allow Bellatrix to do it instead, we've had little to no information on how to defeat the Dark Lord. Although Professor Snape helpfully captured five Death Eaters that night, we've lost the upper hand in this war with no outside information," she continued. "I sought to correct that."

"Hermione, if you had such concerns, why did you not come see me? Why not inform the Order? We could've done something. Why carry this burden?" he questioned vehemently, deeply upset that one of his students – his best student – had felt the need to take matters into her own hands.

"Please don't take my actions as an insult to your competence, Headmaster. Since the Department of Mysteries, I was aware that we – by that I mean the younger generation – were nowhere near prepared enough for this war. Within the war generation, I was the only one preparing, training for the inevitable."

Leaning forward, she continued, begging for him to understand. "Cedric's death and the Dark Lord's resurrection was proof that something needed to be done. I only sought to reduce the bloodshed in this war. How many will die, Professor, in the Final Battle against the Dark Lord? How many innocent lives, both adult and children, will be lost?"

An eerie fire of determination shone in her eyes as she explained her actions with a new confidence.

"Too many, Headmaster. Too many. If we went into this blind – if we allowed the Dark Lord to dictate the terms of the battle – I'm not sure there would be a Wizarding Britain left to rebuild."

Leaning back, she spoke next with a frightening flippancy, as if discussing something as trivial as the weather. "I must admit, when I trained, I'd expected to be a warrior. Just another soldier on the battlefield. But with Professor Snape's former position vacant, it seemed I would be far more useful as a spy." She stopped there, taking a deep breath, as if collecting herself. Her left forearm twitched, ever so slightly, providing physical evidence of the agonising pain she was suppressing expertly.

"Regardless, Headmaster, we can catch up on the events leading up to this moment later. I merely wished to inform you of my position and wanted to offer my services to you. Merlin knows that the light could use it."

Stunned, he nodded absently. He was calculating.

Whilst what he had witnessed today had proven that Hermione Granger was an exceeding powerful witch, he refused to leave her helpless. He stared at her, trying to determine the best course of action. Staring back, she couldn't help but notice that his bright blue eyes had lost their characteristic twinkle.

"What if I say I do not want you to go back?" he inquired.

"I'd say, Headmaster, that it's an unfortunate truth of life and war that we don't always get what we want."

"And if I forbade it?"

"After all I've done, Professor, nothing will stop me."

"If I bound you to the castle, Miss Granger?" he tried again, determined to exhaust all possibilities before he conceded.

"I'd find a way out. I've already been sneaking out since last year. I don't doubt I could continue," she replied with an assured authority.

Before he could question her further, she raised her hand, silently expressing her wish to answer first.

"Headmaster, I've been the Dark Lord's follower for over three months now and the Order had no clue. I've been training vigorously for over two years and no one noticed any difference. If I want to continue as a Death Eater, and I do, I don't see how you could stop me without wasting far too many resources unnecessarily that should be out there fighting, rather than baby-sitting a student." A fire raged in her eyes once again, a steely reminder to Albus that the young woman before him was far more than what she appeared to be, and he remembered her to be.

"I will continue as a Death Eater. I have no doubt he'll call again once the Dark Mark has healed and settled, and I will answer when he does. The only question, Headmaster, is whether you would like to make use of my position and the information I can provide you, or whether I need to find someone else in the Order who will."

Sighing, he leaned back into his chair, defeated. Sending a silent prayer to the gods above to protect his student for what was to come, he surrendered.

"Very well, my dear. You shall liaise with me. However, I have one condition," he ordered, hoping to salvage at least some part of this situation.

"What is it, Headmaster?"

"You must work with Professor Snape. I wish for him to help and train you. If you insist on sending yourself to death's lair, I insist for you to have the best teaching for your task. Who better than the former spy himself?"

She bristled.

Hermione did not like it. She did not wish to be coddled, judged or patronised. She only wished to continue doing her job, which could not be done without Dumbledore.

Reluctantly, she agreed.

"If I must, Headmaster, I will. However, I don't wish to inform him of the situation."

"I shall explain everything to him myself."

"I also ask that no one else in the Order know of my position, Headmaster." Whilst it might have seemed like a request, the weight in her words made it far more commanding.

To that, he nodded, his long white beard bristling with his movements. Satisfied, she stared out the window, admiring the red streaks that were lighting the clouds, marking the start of dawn. The sun had just begun to rise, she noticed, as a few slivers of light escaped the confines of the Forbidden Forest, behind which the sun was hiding. The clouds, bathed in yellow and red, danced in the sky, iridescent, reflecting sunlight from their edges.

The scene was beautiful. Too beautiful, for Hermione, who had found solace in the cover of darkness within which she could hide.

"If you don't mind, Headmaster, I'd like to return to my chambers. I'm exhausted and would appreciate the opportunity to rest."

She watched his blue eyes widen as he realised that the she had not rested since the induction. The crows' feet surrounding his old eyes deepened dramatically as sorrow and shock invaded his features. Nodding at once, he stood from his chair to see her out.

"Why did you not say anything sooner, Hermione? Of course, you may. Rest up, I will make sure no one shall disturb you tomorrow."

"Thank you, Headmaster. Good night."

Turning around, she headed out of the office, swiftly casting all the precautionary spells on her way. His voice stopped her before she could leave.

"After everything we've discussed tonight, my dear, I think it would be appropriate for you to refer to me as Albus."

Looking back, she smiled softly, her wise eyes warm. Looking at the weight they carried, no doubt burdened by what she had seen and done, he berated himself for not noticing her transformation sooner. The young woman in front of him had not been a child for a very long time.

"Thank you, Albus."

With that, she walked out, heading straight to her chambers.

Merlin, she couldn't wait for a warm bath and a long sleep.

She could only hope Draco was asleep and she didn't have to deal with him too.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN/ Hope you enjoyed it :) Please let me know what you think by commenting. I thought I would reassure everyone that Hermione is truly not on the Dark side - she is very much still fighting for the Light as she has explained, and will not magically turn evil or sadistic.  
> In case anyone was wondering, Animadverto Non is Google Translate's latin for notice not. I know, it does not sound nearly as impressive in English.  
> ~Kay


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2:**

Thinking back, she hadn't meant to approach Draco the first time she saw him vulnerable—she knew it was dangerous. But the events at the Ministry had shaken her too.

She had been shocked at how unorganised the side of the light had been. Granted, everyone would have considered the defeat of the Inner Circle by school-going children as a huge success, but not her. She wasn't affected by the glamour her peers' age seemed to bestow upon everyone else. They were the next generation of warriors. This was their war; in this, they would fight or die. The fate of the world rested on their shoulders.

Harry had been praised as the Chosen One once again. With the return of Voldemort out in the open for everyone to see, the public had turned their eyes to place their faith and hope on the product of a prophecy. But they had not been there that night. They had not seen the chaotic manner with which he led, emotions clouding his judgement, unintentional arrogance making him reckless. Whether he knew it or not, he had believed himself invincible from the rest of the world bar Voldemort. After all, he was the Chosen One; a final confrontation with Voldemort was his destiny. Until then, he was safe.

He was young. She wouldn't say he was a child like the others who fought that day. However, he had not been ready. Not in the slightest. None of them were. She had the scar to prove it.

Whilst battling the ruthless Death Eaters, she had noticed the precision with which they threw every spell, their experience giving them the clear upper hand. The children's hesitant and clumsy responses were nothing compared to them. It had been sheer luck that they had all come back alive that day. She knew it, but others seem to forget it.

No one came back unscathed that day. Everyone had cuts, bruises and injuries from Dark curses that needed to be healed. She had been the worst – only Madam Pomfrey knew how close to death she had come. She had taken down half of the Death Eaters though. And that was without even revealing her true capabilities.

If there was one thing everyone knew about Hermione Granger, it was that she was no fool. Often titled as the 'Brightest Witch of her Age,' her intelligence was well-known, even amongst the dark side. She had been clever enough to understand that this was going to be a war fought by children who had been forced to grow up too early – she was one of them. She had the common sense to realise that it would not come naturally. No. Warriors were not born, they were trained.

And so she had trained. Her over-achieving nature had helped but it was not enough. Ever since Voldemort's resurrection, she had started preparing for the inevitable bloodshed and war. Whilst she had known countless spells, charms and curses far more advanced than the average 7th year, she knew that would not be enough.

She had trained her magic, learning far more spells than even the average Death Eater. She had trained her mind, meditating daily in hopes of someday attempting to guard her secrets. She had trained her body, dealing with the stress and demands of duelling.

And she had done so in secret. Not that she wanted to. She had tried to persuade Harry and Ron to do the same. After all, Harry was the instrumental cog in their war effort. Without him, all hope would be lost.

But Cedric's death had shaken him. His pure heart had him swimming in guilt that could not be overcome. Her protests to prepare further had fallen to unheard ears. Ron had been convinced that pretending that everything was fine was the way forward to prevent Harry from drowning in his sorrow.

So it had started. Her boys acted like boys, when she had turned into a woman, the reality of war sobering her. Already almost two years their elder from her use of the Time Turner in their third year to double up on lessons and homework, she had hidden her determined planning behind her know-it-all character. She played with them, as if nothing had changed, allowing them to act as kids for a few months. She had made sure they learnt their spells – some more advanced ones as well – and subtly did her best to prepare them for a war they were hiding from.

She had spent all of that summer, between her fourth and fifth year, learning more about anything that could give them the advantage in this war. Aware of her officially underage status, she had researched everything that did not require an outward release of magic to circumvent the Ministry's detection spells. She had organised her mind, training with the discipline required to control her thoughts. Occlumency was not a skill easily learnt or mastered, but she had been determined not to let any spies for the dark side steal her secrets from her mind. She would never betray Harry, not even unintentionally.

She hadn't known entirely what she was doing: she had no one to teach her. Knowledge from books could only take one so far when learning such a practical skill. Having meditated since her first year to help with the stress of exams, calming her mind had come naturally. Organising and defending had been another story entirely. However, she had been determined, and after 4 long months of mental exercises, she had managed to erect her first, albeit week, mental wall.

She could already cast the majority of shielding and defensive spells till the seventh year curriculum in her third year. Her offensive spells were only a little poorer – that had become the first task on her to-do list for her fifth year.

Overachieving as she was, a month into her summer vacation, she had set her aims higher than even she would have dreamed of in her younger years. She started preparing for her Animagus transformation. Her mental preparation with her Occlumency and her almost 6 years of meditation had helped. However, Hermione had always been a controlled individual. She was thoroughly organised in her work-ethic, she planned diligently, and she felt more comfortable when keeping with rules. Whilst spending four years being Harry Potter's best friend had improved her improvisation skills dramatically, she was not a raw, instinctual individual like Harry. She was definitely not animalistic.

Her first task had been to go through the necessary mental exercises—her experience had been enough to shorten the year long process to a meagre two weeks. The next task was the hardest. Whilst she could calm and organise her mind, she could never let go completely. She could relax, but she could not become one with nature, letting her magic interact with the energy of her surroundings. She could not let her instincts rule her.

The rest of the summer holidays had been concentrated on making progress on her transformation. It wasn't until her last week that she could even feel her magical core. She had a long way to go.

Her progress in Occlumency had been better. Her one mental wall had been reinforced, becoming strong enough to withstand a weak surface Legilimency attack.

Hermione Granger was smart. She was bright and diligent. However, she was not a miracle worker. Although she had far over-stepped her abilities to that of a well-trained, highly experienced and powerful adult, she could not master such demanding and time-consuming skills in a summer. Even if she had been laying the ground-work since her first year.

With the start of fifth year, came the tyranny of one Dolores Umbridge. The sub-standard DADA teaching had provided the perfect excuse to train Ron and Harry. Dumbledore's Army was created, allowing her to push her friends to their limits. Even if they didn't achieve a level of offensive excellence, she had made sure that they could at least defend themselves well.

It had been a great idea: she had managed to motivate the rest of her trio quite well. Harry had sunken into his role as a leader splendidly. She had noticed that he was maturing, having finally dealt with the guilt left over from Cedric's death. He had used his feelings as a driving force.

His experience with death had changed him. He carried a new weight around his shoulders—the weight of a soul lost in the crossfire. DA was his first step to accepting his destiny; being the Chosen One meant being the leader of the war effort. He was the catalyst, the beacon of hope that was the driving force for the light.

As Harry taught and the DA learnt, Hermione had stood in the side-lines, participating as required to keep from suspicion. Not many had questioned the ease with which she cast spells; she was the over-achieving brainiac after all. She had still made sure to hold back the true extent of her talent. It would not have helped anyone to undermine Harry's authority or abilities, especially when he was progressing so well.

She had not let her academic studies interfere with her extra-curricular training though. Every night, she would sneak out, cast a Disillusionment Charm perfectly, and run laps around the castle, silencing her feet and lungs to hide the evidence of her activities. When cooling down, she would try to locate her magical core and interact with the nature around her. Every morning, she would quickly run through all the Occlumency exercises mentally.

After all, she was the brightest witch of her age. It simply wouldn't do to let her generation down.

Throughout the year, she had observed, with great satisfaction, her Occlumency skills improve. Her one mental shield had doubled into two reinforced barriers of steel, guarding her thoughts with sufficient competency. She was nowhere close to mastering the science—Master Occlumens raised dozens of barriers, each of different kinds, and sustained them subconsciously. However, she was improving—at a much faster rate than ever heard of before. And for now, that was enough for her.

To her surprise, she had also made progress in her quest to become an Animagus. She had noticed how she was always aware of her magical core. She had learnt how to immerse herself into the magic of nature, even if she couldn't interact with it as effectively as she had hoped. Her instincts were becoming stronger – her schoolwork showed that. Her intellectual brilliance, that once lacked the spark of a trailblazer, was complemented with educated speculation that gave rise to great researchers. Her teachers and friends had noticed and thought nothing of it. Just another thing for her to be great at.

When Harry had started learning Occlumency, she had tried to help. She had given him copies of all her notes and research. She had even surreptitiously slipped in a few tips that she had learnt from her own experience. He was simply too occupied with Professor Snape's torturous teaching to think anything of it.

But he did not have the discipline. Whilst Animagi gained from their instincts, Occlumency was all about control and organisation. You could not have asked for a more ill-suited task for the Boy Who Lived. She had been disappointed when he gave up; she realised the importance of having at least some control over the anomalous connection he shared with Voldemort.

Her instincts had been right, as they increasingly were. His had been wrong.

And that was how they had landed in the Department of Mysteries that night.

The Boy Who Lived had one famous weakness and strength: his love. It motivated him and gave him the strength that he required. Once manipulated, however, it also forced him to act in a rash and obtuse manner. Once Harry was convinced that Sirius could be in danger, nothing could have stopped him from rushing to save the day. And nothing could have stopped his friends from following blindly.

They had been so close to losing someone that day—excluding her of course (she had practically begged Madam Pomfrey not to reveal the severity of her injuries for the benefit of Harry's mental health).

Harry's stupid saviour complex had prevented him from thinking logically. His hare-brained thinking had almost cost him his godfather's life. When Sirius found out that Harry had rushed into battle, nothing could have kept him from emulating his godson's reckless actions and rushing in right behind him. At least he had come with reinforcements in the form of the Order. Thank Merlin that Professor Snape had informed them, or she was sure the Hogwarts' students would have suffered a thoroughly unpleasant fate.

She remembered that moment very clearly. It was what had almost cost her her life.

Everyone had watched as Bellatrix had taunted her cousin, all the while pushing him back, taking the clear offensive in their duel. Whether it was intentional and the notoriously crazy Death Eater had meant for him to inch closer to the Veil, she didn't know. However, she had watched with horror as she saw him unknowingly retreating towards the Veil of Death. Her curse had been fired right before Bellatrix could do the deed; the silent  _Protego_ creating an invisible barrier behind him. Rebounding off her defensive wall, he had been able to easily counter his attacker, who fled with the arrival of her master.

Casting her  _Protego_ to protect Sirius instead of her had given Dolohov the opportunity to surprise her. The Dark slicing spell hit her right on the chest, slashing a clean cut down the middle of her torso, rivers of her blood flowing out of the wound. The Dark magic had made it notoriously hard to heal; she had exhausted a quarter of the Hospital Wing's Blood Replenishing Potions simply bleeding out.

She had spent a week recovering from the blood loss and residual Dark magic. No one but Sirius knew of her actions; she had pleaded with him to keep it a secret. He hated to do so—he didn't understand why—but since she had saved his life, he complied. In return, she tried to free him of his Life Debt. After spending 12 years in Azkaban, he didn't deserve to be imprisoned any longer, she had said. However, his repayment had been too small to be accepted by the binding magic. He had left her, promising to help her through anything she wished, and thanking her profusely for saving his life.

So that's what had brought her to the lake on that night—the night she met her friend. After she had recovered from her injuries, she had been even more determined than ever to throw herself into her preparations. Recent events had provided her with inspiration and she was determined to reduce the bloodshed of the oncoming war. The need to train had never been higher.

It had been at the end of her run that she had seen him. When she had connected her magical core with her surroundings, she had felt the magic bleeding away in sorrowful waves at a distance. Unable to calm her curiosity, she had walked towards the source of the conflict.

Before her had been Draco Malfoy, head leaning on a tree trunk, staring across the distant lake with unseeing eyes. Although his face had remained a regal emotionless mask, his magical energy had been turbulent.

The Prince of Slytherin was changing.

Quietly, she sat down beside him, sensing that he required a friendly presence. Nothing that could cause such a great disturbance in someone's magical core could be taken lightly.

She had expected him to react when she took his hand, at the very least recoil in disgust for being touched by a Mudblood. Wiping his hands on his trousers was pretty much a necessity. However, none of this had occurred. He had simply stared at her with the same unseeing eyes, and turned back to the lake in indifference.

That was when she knew that the prince had needed her.

She had been happy to help.

He was worn; too tired to even care of her worthlessness. With the break of dawn, she simply squeezed his hands again and walked away, knowing that it was exactly what he needed.

If she had acknowledged this arrangement, spoke of it or even expected anything of him in return, it would become all too real. With his eyes closed, he could pretend she was someone else—someone acceptable—that cared about him.

So she had let the charade continue. Every night, after her daily run, she would calmly sit down beside him and take his hand. She would continue her Animagus exercises at his side. For the first time in her almost year of training, she had felt it. The Animal. Back then, she couldn't quite place what it was. All she had known was that her magical core, animalistic in form, was connecting to the magical energy rolling of the Slytherin Prince. It was reacting to his presence. She could feel the animal almost stroking Draco's core, comforting it magically, without him even knowing.

But none of it had mattered at that moment. All that mattered was that she, a witch, was sitting next to him, a wizard, in his time of need.

She had known he would talk when he was ready to. Until then, she had been perfectly content letting her animal run wild in the darkness of the night.


End file.
